A Moment In Time
by Rhiannon Uerch Llewelyn
Summary: Warning! Incest. “Be safe,” they whispered to each other as they sank together in an embrace of peaceful silence. Their haunting silhouettes still once more… shrouded in silent moonlight. MM


This fic is based on the _NJO_ book _Dark Tide 2: Ruin_ by Michael A. Stackpole and was inspired by the moments in time taken by Luke and Mara, and Corran and Mirax before the final battle for Ithor, which ultimately failed. What can I say, other farewells needed to be said…

Warning! This is a surprise! pairing of an incestuous nature so hit the BACK! button if that ain't your thing and to my knowledge it may be the only one of its kind. (So far) There is a reason I'm being as vague as I am. Flames welcome.

Smack

(Truly eeeevil smirk)

I own nothing, if I did than this would have been canon!

That said: Enjoy!

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A Moment In Time

All the lights in the room were off, leaving the glow of the Mother Jungle scant klicks below as the sole guidance to human sight. It poured in through huge transparisteel view panels, light and shadow flowing around the Ithorian architecture, furnishings and carelessly strewn belongings that marked the room as lived in.

Nothing moved, all was still, even the youth sitting alone in frozen stillness on the carpeted floor a few feet from the view port: his face fallen into mystery, his body cloaked in darkness, and his mind adrift, lost in a sea of shadows. As he gazed intently on the world below, his thoughts swirled with the torrent of war and his mind sharpened in focused concentration, shutting out all else from his awareness. His Force sense dimmed to near nothingness, as did his presence within it.

And thus he remained, in trancelike meditation, everything he was surrendered to that which he gazed upon. Time slipped away as seconds passed into minutes, minutes passed into hours and hours into suspended eons. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered as he sat, lost in the dichotomy of himself and the planet below.

The light outside shifted with hints of dusk shadowing the view as faint whispers of movement intruded on the brooding quiet and a familiar presence softly pervaded the room. The seated youth flinched in surprise when hands at once tentative and sure slipped into his hair as a body, supple and strong, knelt behind him, mussing gently with a knowing touch, fingertips re-learning the planes of his skull. Tension melted out of him and his eyes ceased their restless gaze upon the threatened world below as they slid closed, shutting out all distractions from this languid caress. He sank into the touch and the hands slid lower, trailing lightly downwards to his nape and paused.

The figure behind him leaned forward in rapt concentration and he felt the shift in weight as the thighs braced apart for balance so near his hips shifted forwards slightly, warming him with their near-touch and embracing him with warmth long remembered.

His hands, resting in his lap in relaxed repose, stirred. His right hand unlaced from his left and sought contact with the one behind him, gliding blindly off his lap and ghosting over the knee by his thigh. His touch was light, a mere brush of fingertips; no pressure, no fear; but a slip of breath, as whispery as a breathed song. Fingers trailed lazily from the knee up a muscled thigh, wandering aimlessly with no path in mind, simply touch, connection, solidity.

The hands paused at his nape…slipped away. The right drifted down to meet his own and palms met, fingers twined and stilled. A peaceful balance

The left hand slid once more into his hair: massaging his scalp, firm and purposeful, stroking his forehead and then his temple. Fingertips feathered down the shell of his ear and slid teasingly along his cheek, the middle finger glided along his faintly parted lips in a languid caress. His teeth nipped the underside and his tongue soothed the Force-felt stab of pain. In response the finger gently stroked his lower lip, running softly over the chapped flesh, the skin tingling as his lips brushed a fleeting kiss across a rough pad.

The one behind him moved forward once more, molding to his body with heavy warmth: strong thighs fully hugging his own, a hard chest and stomach melded to his back and a dimpled chin slid onto his shoulder. Warm breath breathed into his ear sending a shiver up his spine.

Lips as windblown as his own brushed softly along the side of his neck as silken skeins of hair tickled the side of his face, and his name was breathed out in a whisper by his ear, "Jacen..."

"Anakin" Jacen's reply slipped out between tingling lips, his breath fanning the finger lingering teasingly on the sensitive corner of his mouth.

"Be safe," they whispered to each other as they sank together in an embrace of peaceful silence. Their haunting silhouettes still once more… shrouded in silent moonlight.

66

"_Mara and I are different but complementary—in the same way Anakin and Jacen are."_

Quote: page 67 of _Agents of Chaos 2: Jedi Eclipse_ by James Luceno.

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(Bows deeply to Mr. Luceno…)

LOVE YOU, MAN! REALLY!

(Waves arms around like a maniac)

Cough

AN/1) Flame me! By all means, FLAME ME!

If this pairing offends the shit out of you, you don't like it, you don't WANT it & you wanna carve my eyes out with steel chopsticks. GIVE IT TO ME!

Shamelessly wiggles ass in readers view field.

Smirk

AN/2) This fic is not by ANY means intended to squick anybody. I wrote this as a tender private moment between two people who love each other very much, they just happen to be brothers. If you find this gross, well... don't read the one I will have coming out with a hefty warning in front. Basically, as with same gendered love sometimes things happen... and they can be beautiful.

I love this pairing for so many reasons it's not even funny. Yes, I know Anakin was tied with Tahiri in the books and Jacen to both Tenel Ka and/or Danni Quee but I also noticed that the fire between those two and their dichotomy of natures was too tangible for me to pass up. So I didn't.

Between Anakin and Tahiri there was tentative cuteness, blossoming love and attraction but when Anakin died… nothing happened. He vanished from her presence… yet he appeared to Jacen as a Force projection three times in _Traitor_. BUT in _Force Heretic: Remnant_ Tahiri cries out to Jaina in bewildered terror, "it's Anakin. He—He's trying to kill me, Jaina. Anakin wants me dead!" I mean HE-LLOOO? What the fuck! What was up with that? Tahiri fell into herself and froze, finally surfacing with her Vong half and having to battle out who was her until she became a two-in-one.

Anakin… is another story entirely. The youngest of three and the one with the most power among them, he is the wild card. Viewed by all (pretty much) as Luke Skywalker's heir of power, fame and destiny. His name that of Vader and his potential in shadows, he could have become very, very powerful but… Ben Skywalker came along and, when Anakin witnessed his birth, the torch was passed on.

It bugs me to no end that Anakin came up with the plan to go to Myrkr seemingly out of thin air. No Force prompt, nothing, he simply came up with it, said "let's go", got volunteers & they went off & he died. I have another fic that gives the reason but I'm still tying up the end of it… The manner that Anakin's death was portrayed was—incredible. I have no words for it; he died with grace and dignity. He _chose_ to go giving everything he had, body and soul. He didn't flinch, simply accepted and drove himself beyond.

With Jacen things are more complex. He's alive and my GOD did he change from the beginning of _NJO_ through _Traitor_! To be frank he irritated the shit out of me before _Traitor_. It's a full on, no holds barred war and he's dithering about philosophy and what he should or shouldn't do to become who he was supposed to be. Dear god I wanted to strangle him and feed his (lacking) balls to his exotic pet collection. Honestly! But when I read _Traitor_—everything changed. In it he sheds his innocence and Vergere shatters everything he ever knew and believed. It is the most beautiful and lyrical book I have ever read, where the mind of a youth is broken and he must learn himself, as no one else ever will to become who he can be. He is forced to face the depth of his shadows and unravel his darkness to become more than he was before. And it is Anakin, twined with the Force, who triggers his steps, though good or ill.


End file.
